


Limbo

by mychakk



Series: I sometimes write [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Do Not Post To Another Website, F/M, Parentlock, Prompt Fill, Trope Mashup, historical!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mychakk/pseuds/mychakk
Summary: MizJoely asked on Tumblr for Survival/wilderness and Babyfic mashup for sherlolly please?My answer: Aye, Captain! :)....and this came to be.She may not remember much and the life must go on, but deep inside she knows. And so, subconsciously, she waits.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper
Series: I sometimes write [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1167809
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	Limbo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MizJoely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/gifts).



> This was supposed to be a trope mashup post but a ficlet instead came to be. Nor beta'read. I'm too impatient to post it. 
> 
> Written in about half an hour.
> 
> Original Tumblr notes: 
> 
> mizjoely asked:
> 
> Survival/wilderness and Babyfic mashup for sherlolly please?
> 
> Aye, Captain! :)
> 
> So a Revolutionary War/18th cent setting. And a trope no3 to add too XD

Limbo

xxx

_She runs down the hill, avoiding branches and roots, the heavy musket blasts and flashes of light accompanying her harsh irregular breathing in overwhelming cacophony. Yet she keeps running and running and running, the precious cargo in her arms the most important thing. To save. To protect. She will_ die _for it. But she knows she has to_ live _for it to survive. So she runs and keeps on running, the noises and flashes of light further and further away._

That’s the only thing she remembers from her life. That desperate journey through the forest. That feeling of urgency and …of loss. She wakes up from this nightmare every night and the only thing that soothes her wracked psyche is the little one. Her precious one she’s managed to save. So she goes to to wooden crib and picks him up, hugging the babe to her chest, breathing the familiar comforting smell. And as she does so she feels the pang of _aching_ , longing for something she can’t even remember.

She’s been found next to the village church, barely standing on her feet, a nasty gash on her forehead. Completely spent, she sways on her feets on the outskirts of the forest, probably the one she’s trespassed to get to safety. She doesn’t know her name. She doesn’t know anything about herself. Just the little one. William. She knows he’s William and he’s hers and she’ll _kill_ for him and die for him, and she never leaves him behind.

The pastor and his wife take her in. Settle her in one fo the rooms. Give her a name and a place to stay and something to do. She caretakers to the garden, surprisingly proficient with herbs and natural medicine.

And time flies by.

The villagers generally accept her. They sympathise with her situation even though her accent betrays her. British to their American one. But she’s quiet and hardworking and once she’s saved little Joey from a nasty set of croup, even the most apprehensive ones quiet their misgivings.

It’s been over three months since she settled in the village. The pastor and his wife are nice, but people start to talk. She has a child but there is no ring on her finger. A quiet but steady pressure appears. And Tom, the butcher son, ready to take over the family business, seems the ideal prospect in their minds. And he _is_ interested. Quite a lot.

But she looks at her son and knows she can’t. She won’t. And if she has to she’ll move away, she’ll find another place. Even if the longing in her, this empty space, will never be fulfilled again, she just can’t.

She’s working in the garden, her son next to her on his blanket playing with his wooden toys, when she hears _it_.

It’s not the name they call her in the village. The one she’s never really managed to get used to. It’s not even a name that stirs any recognition in her mind, as she _has_ heard it before.

No.

It’s the _voice_. The tone inclination. The feeling. The _hope_ in it.

She whirls around and stares.

She knows this name; said in this voice. She knows those eyes staring at her.

She knows she’s _Molly_ and this is-

“… _Sherlock_.”

It falls from her lips, subconsciously.

But she knows it’s true.

He jumps over the fence, eating up the distance between them with his long strides.

She just barely gets up before she’s engulfed in his strong, familiar, oh so familiar, arms.

“Oh, God, Molly.” She hears him whisper in a choked voice. “I never lost hope of finding you. I knew you’d survive.”

She sobs into his jacket, memories rushing in like a waterfall, still a jumble, but finally, _finally_ she knows.

Then William coos at their feet.

“Ma?” He asks looking up at them.

Sherlock startles, hand rising to his mouth as he gapes at the boy. Molly scoops him up, presenting him to his father.

Sherlock looks at the boy, taking him in. The boy watches him back with identical look of scrutiny. Then he smiles, reaching out to the new adult. He’s _never_ done that with anyone from the village, and throws a tantrum whenever Tom gets near. But he knows his daddy. Even if he was too little to remember him, he knows him.

And Sherlock takes his son and laughs, as tears pour down his face. The boy laughs back, and it’s the sweetest melody Molly’s ever heard.

There is gold chain on Sherlock’s neck and William yanks it, revealing two rings. A wedding band and engagement ring.

_Her_ wedding band and engagement ring.

She notices Shelrock wearing his on his finger as he prevents William from putting the rings into his mouth.

“You left them behind. I’ve found them in the ruins and vowed to put them back on your fingers.” Sherlock says as he pulls the chain, breaking it and letting it fall the the ground, rings in hand. “May I?” He asks, eyes boring into hers.

She nods, choked up, presenting her hand and he struggles with his one hand to slip them on her finger, his other one still occupied with holding William who watches it all with childlike innocent curiosity. Then Sherlock takes the hand and kisses the knuckles above the rings. And Molly’s eyes spill. Sherlock gently yanks her toward him once more, his lips finally, _finally_ , crashing on hers. They kiss and William giggles then throws his arms around their heads and they break with giggles of their own. And Molly’s heart is full of love and happiness and finally, _finally_ she’s complete and knows everything will be alright.

**_Oops my hands slipped. Hope you like it![@mizjoely](https://tmblr.co/mXZaWBDpLhs5n0OqAyYmAxQ)_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed it. I'm actually quite proud how it turned out. 
> 
> Reviews make my day! :)


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